Fixation
by Stonecreek
Summary: Sakaki has a lot swimming around in her mind, not the least of which is Kagura. A trip through Sakaki's increasingly preoccupied thoughts, told in five parts. M for Sakaki's wandering mind.


A.N. – This has been a long time coming. I have been a huge fan of Azumanga Daioh for a couple of years now, and have always wanted to try my hand at shoujo-ai fanfiction. So, to kill the proverbial two birds with one stone, I have gone and written my first Azu fic, and my first real stab at shoujo-ai. Being an avid reader of the genre since high school, I worried I was doing a disservice to the fandom by writing this. The high bar I set led to repeated delays. Having to dive into such a taciturn character's head (and the opposite gender, to boot) also caused setbacks, the main one being that I'm making her much more verbose in her thoughts than she'd ever be in actual conversation. The person who petitioned I do this fic waited, for the most part, patiently, and I thank him for that. I also must thank (and curse) Salmon Pink, whose brilliant fic "Tail" I tried to live up to and yet not copy.

Disclaimer: This fic would be rated R, had the site had such a rating. Unfortunately, I had to class this as M instead. There's only one instance of anything explicitly going on, but the fic centers around a female/female relationship, and Sakaki's mind increasingly wanders into more adult-ish territory. If that bothers you, shoo. Also, I do not own Azumanga Daioh, though if it ever comes up in auction, I shall bid on it. Needless to say, I am not profiting from this work in any way. Now, let's close this long missive and get on with the main party.

**Fixation**

**I. Noticing**

I don't gaze out of the window because I'm aimless. The rumor persists throughout the class that I'm aloof and unapproachable, and they feel that the staring out of the window is but a part of the cool demeanor. They have it wrong. I do not stare out the window; rather, I gaze at what's reflected in it. I miss half the conversations my fellow students try to strike up, not because of a lack of interest, but because I am more focused that perhaps I should be on my window-watching. But I can't stop staring at Kagura's image imposed upon the glass.

It used to be my favorite pastime, observing the antics of Tomo and Yomi across the room, or Osaka's daydreams. But then she joined our class, and it hasn't been the same. The activities of the others slowly faded away whenever she caught my eye. How I never noticed her before she joined our class, I cannot fathom. Why she captivates me more and more, I can only guess at.

It may be because we have some similarities. Aside from our physique we have in common, we both seem to be gifted in sports. And we have the adoring gazed of others in the school directed at us regularly, though I cannot tell if she appreciates this or not. I try to ignore it, but in some cases – like with Kaorin – it is hard.

Perhaps it is because she is so different from me. She is boisterous, self-confident, and outgoing. Kagura is comfortable in the middle of it all, and I'd rather stay on the sidelines. I am a loner, as she had told me. I am not confident, at least not in the way Kagura is. I feel…out-of-place, at times. Awkward, unpretty. Most definitely not cute.

I have only started noticing recently this new distinction come up when I mulled over Kagura. I have never associated the word cute with a person, with Chiyo-chan being the exception. I envision frolicking animals and girly colors when I think of cute. The fact that Kagura is falling into that category concerns me. It is not that she isn't good-looking; the adoration of her followers attests to that. But why this change in my perception? So I stare into the window, and for once let my thoughts become aimless.

I see the piece of paper flicked at me before it connects, and turn, startled. Kagura is askew in her seat, grinning sheepishly and pointing none too discreetly at Yukari-sensei. I flush and try to sink in my seat as the teacher reprimands me for inattentiveness. I go back to the window as the next person is called, and try not to notice the laughter in Kagura's eyes. I wonder if I'm not the only one noticing today.

**II. Confirming**

It is before gym class that I realize I'm beyond just noticing. We are changing into our P.E. clothes, preparing to go out and run on the track. In my locker's mirror, I see Kaorin trying and failing at covertly checking me out. It clicks with me then – is what I've been doing in class any different, really? True, I may be less…persistent than Kaorin is, but we're both basically spying on classmates.

But I am not like Kaorin, I rationalize to myself. I don't stalk Kagura, and I most certainly don't have a crush on her like Kaorin does me. My eyes betray me, though, as I nudge my locker door so my mirror now reflects Kagura pulling her shirt over her head. I suck in my breath and it sounds deafening to my ears. I busy myself with my gym bag, bending down to pull out my outfit, not daring to look up for a half-minute.

A hand rests upon my back just then, startling me into banging my head on the locker door. I wince and look up at the sympathetic face of the cause of all this. She smiles and removes her hand from my back, and it looks like she is going to rest it on my forehead instead. I don't want to think about what will happen then, so I forestall any more action on her part.

"I'm fine, really," I manage, and Kagura does not look convinced. "Just tell Kurosawa-sensei I will be a bit late in getting outside." She nods, and is off into the sunshine. I slump against the bank of lockers, half in pain, half in shock. Where did those exaggerated reactions come from? My mind jumps to the obvious conclusion I don't want to even consider. I stuff my outfit back into the bag from where I'd dropped it on the floor and take it with me into a stall.

I take my time with stripping off my school uniform. My head is going to be bruised, but it is not the reason for my deliberateness. I'd rather not have to face Kagura, not with how I feel right now. I fold the shirt and skirt up and place them in the bag before slipping the P.E. shirt on. I wrestle with the too-small shorts they make us wear, adjusting the elastic bands repeatedly. In doing so, I notice a drop of liquid on my thigh. It couldn't…

I wipe it up with my finger and bring it to my nose. It's not sweat, though the odor is somewhat similar. Did it happen because the shorts were pressing too tightly in, or was it…her? I sat down on the toilet heavily. I couldn't be….but I had to find out, or else this was going to drive me mad. Pulling the shorts down, I looked at my barely damp panties. The adrenaline from the accident a moment before must've cancelled out this temporary surge, I told myself.

I hovered my hand over my underwear, hesitating. I could see the chain of events play out before they happened. If I touched myself there, I was sure I'd be wetter than I wanted to believe. If I gave into the urge, chances are it would be Kagura on my mind. And thinking of Kagura would validate all these feelings and thoughts from earlier. But I had to know.

So I slipped a finger under the fabric and ghosted it across the moist flesh there, shivering in the newfound knowledge crashing down like the tears I had started crying. I thought of the nekoconeko on the other side of the underwear, smiling almost mockingly, and was glad I could not see it. It did not know I had found something cuter than it. It did not know how that scared me more than anything ever has.

**III. Wanting**

I cleaned myself up, stowed my bag in my locker and make it out in time to see relay racing end. Kurosawa-sensei notices me walk out and waves me over. She's dividing the class up into groups of six for the hundred-meter dash.

"Kagura said you got hurt. Are you OK?" she asks.

"I'm fine," I respond, though I can't meet her eyes as I say it. Kagura hears our interchange and waves me over like Kurosawa-sensei. I shuffle over to see the usual gang there – Chiyo, Osaka, Tomo, and Yomi.

"Good, you're in our group now!" Kagura's face is as bright as her voice. "I'd hate to miss a chance to race you."

"You're still on about that rivalry?" Yomi asks her.

Tomo saves Kagura from answering. "Aw, let them race, Yomi. Besides, they're only gunning for second place with me in the field." The look on Kagura's face, though only there for a split-second, is adorable. It is one of disbelief mingled with outrage, tempered by mirth. I wish I had a camera.

"In your dreams," Yomi quips, and the three of them start up a playful banter. Chiyo tries to intercept me as I head over to the grass in the middle of the track to start stretching out, but I otherwise quietly slip away. While I cherish their friendship, the whole group together can be overbearing. At least that's what I told myself. Deep down, I knew I'd separated myself so I didn't have to interact with Kagura.

I watched the other groups race from the relative peace of the infield. I just wasn't interested, though. It was just running. So what if I am good at it? I turned my focus onto my group of friends, still debating Tomo's sprinting merits jovially. Kagura was so full of life, laughing at whatever Tomo has just said. I tuned Tomo out and concentrated on the musical quality of the laughter, the lines of her face, the hue of her cheeks and the sway of her hair in the breeze. I smiled.

Suddenly, my elbow was being grabbed. I snapped out of it to see Kagura leading me to the starting line.

"It's our turn now. Didn't you hear Nyamo call us over?" Kagura looked amused, but her voice betrayed some worry.

"No," I answered honesty, but did not elaborate.

"Well, I hope your bumped head won't slow you down in the sprint," Kagura retorted and got into her stance. I followed suit, looking over at the rest of the lanes. Kagura had led us to the far two lanes, away from Osaka; a wise choice, as she was employing her spread-arms method of running. Kagura leaned forward then, blocking my view of Osaka but giving me an up-close look at her dangling breasts. Kagura was down so low that they nearly brushed the track's surface. I blushed averted my eyes, and Kurosawa-sensei's starter's pistol sounded, and I almost missed its bang.

I burst from the blocks, more eager to run than I ever remember having been before. Anything to escape the image seared into my eyelids, the tingling below my belly. My feet pounded the rubberized track, sending jolts up my leg and straight to my groin. I gritted my teeth and plowed on. Kagura was gaining; I could feel the breeze kicked up by her passage on my aching legs. I had not stretched enough. I had, instead, mainly watched her, and I was now watching her again as she pulled in front.

The moment froze.

The finish line was right there, but I couldn't care less then. I could only stare on in awe, mesmerized by rippling flesh beneath thin cotton, sweat beading and running down legs moving in long, purposeful strides as she widened the lead. Where that sweat originated from was something I was not sure I wanted to think about, but I did anyway. The only silly thought my suddenly desire-fogged mind could come up with was, 'Why had this escaped my attention?'

'Because you're always in front,' I answered myself, and the trance broke. It was much too late for being in front, I realized. I had crossed the line on auto-pilot, and Kagura was flashing a 'V' sign at me, practically beaming. I didn't mind losing so much after I saw that. I found myself wanting to next time.

Kurosawa-sensei blew her whistle, signaling class was over. We filed back into the locker room, and I made sure I kept as many classmates in between Kagura and myself as possible. I changed in record time, but that still did not stop me from wanting to do other things as Kagura's visage made its way to my mirror again. I slammed the door, shouldered my bag, and made my way to the shoe room to stow it away.

I sat down on the bench in the shoe room and slipped the strap off my shoulder, bringing the bag to my lap. I looked around, and then hugged the bag like my life depended on it. It was no good. Angry more at myself and my reactions, I shoved the bag into the tiny cubbies allowed us, punching it in so it would fit.

Only Kagura noticed my red knuckles when I at back down in the class.

**IV. Distracting**

Class the rest of the day is an exercise in control. The window is both my salvation and my detriment. I surreptitiously watch Kagura as the afternoon wears on, and it shows in my class work. It is only because of my heretofore good academic record that Yukari does not make me stay after when the bell rings. The shrill tone returns me to the here and now, and I face the front of the class room instead.

A couple of seats in front of me, Osaka has cornered Kagura at her desk. She has only a slightly dreamy look, which must mean she's asking one of her out of left field questions. I can't hear what she's saying, but Osaka's finished talking and looking expectantly at Kagura. Is it my imagination, or is she too close to the other girl? Kagura does not verbally answer; rather, she pulls at the collar of her uniform top, revealing the skin underneath.

I sit and steam in my seat, and try not to lean forward too obviously. A green-eyed monster I had no clue lurked in me reared its ugly head, dying to bestow unpleasant things upon Osaka. I wished fervently that I was privy to the sight she was being treated to. Osaka stares like it is nothing, and, for her part, Kagura looks slightly unsettled. I am too focused on the barest sliver of tanned skin I can see around the obstruction of my view that Osaka has turned into today to hear her next line of inquiry she floats, but it sparks a negative reaction out of Yomi, so it must've been a bit uncivilized.

Kagura's hand lets go of her uniform, and it slips back into place, and my chance is over. I am only left with the pictures in my imagination, filled with hints of lace, edges of roundness, and endless softness. Where were the cats that used to inhabit this space in my mind? Kagura has monopolized my thoughts, but it is more than that. Today has made me feel so many emotions – exhilarated, devastated, dirty, overwhelmed, jealous. I am not used to such a spectrum in such a short time. Life was simpler when it was just the cats that interested me, before it threw a wrench into it all.

The easiest one to let out is jealousy. I know I am being irrational when, as I watch the gang group around Kagura's desk, possibly to head off another Osakan assault, all I can muster up is resentment that they are monopolizing Kagura's time, and jealousy that I am not among them. I should go join them, but don't. The loner in me is hard to get rid of when I want to. So, I sit and seethe; I'd like to think it's a step or two below steaming. It doesn't dilute the other feelings any; it just temporarily shoves them under the surface.

I am jealous that Osaka got the near peep show and I didn't. I can accept that, or am at least learning to accept it. What I can't accept is the animosity toward the innocent girl. What could make me feel this way towards a friend of mine? It can't be a simple want to defend Kagura from Osaka's misguided (and harmless, I keep telling myself) actions. I'm not an angry person normally; I'm not much of an anything person most times. I don't wear my heart of my sleeve, so to speak. So why start now?

I didn't notice that the group around Kagura's desk has split up and left until their last remaining member comes over and casts a shadow over my desk. I look up, startled from my musings but not showing it, into Kagura's face. The playful smile is not there; the expression is carefully neutral, something I did not think Kagura capable of.

"Today's our day to stay behind for clean-up duty," Kagura says. I only then notice the broom she has in one hand, and the dust rag she's offering to me with the other. Sighing, I take the cloth and only half-meaning to, brush my hand against hers. I mumble some words of thanks and get to work on dusting the furniture, while she goes off to the front of the room to begin sweeping. If she reacts to the contact, she does not show it, or I choose not to see it. I polish the first desk until it shines, shines so clear that it reflects like a mirror.

I move down the rows and Kagura moves up them, and every time we pass I work extra hard on the desk I'm cleaning. I am only rewarded for my efforts once. The first time, I see her exposed midriff as she enthusiastically pushes the broom around. My hand stilled on the desk, but Kagura's work never ceases. The hint of skin is there and gone quickly, but it stays in my mind far longer.

Watching Kagura surreptitiously has made the task pass by faster than usual, it seems. Sooner than I'd believed possible, we are done. I put away the cleaning supplies in the closet and head after Kagura to the shoe room. She plops down on the bench, slipping her school shoes off, and her skirt ripples enticingly. I gawk at the unwitting display caught out of the corner of my eye, but as my back is mostly turned, Kagura is again oblivious. I wrestle with the gym bag from earlier, and eventually it springs loose. I take a step back and nearly trip over Kagura's outstretched leg. She's stretching on the bench, and her belly button is showing again. I blush and duck my head to tie my shoes.

Kagura asks if I'll need to come up for air anytime soon, and I lift my head, seeing my shoes already tied. The blush turns into a flush, and Kagura looks on the verge of laughter. She is so distracting, and has no clue of it. If every day of school from now on is going to be like this, how am I to survive? Kagura bites back the mirth and more composedly asks if I want to walk home with her. We live in the same neighborhood, so it makes sense. There is no reason (that I'm going to vocalize, anyway) for me to decline. I nod my head in assent. Kagura bounds out of the room.

Now who's monopolizing her time? I grin inwardly and follow her out the door.

**V. Longing**

The walk to her place seems to take no time at all, but is full of those little freeze-frame moments that defy explanation. She talks, and I listen, but not really. I'm too busy blocking out the illicit thoughts making their new home in my mind. She mentions jogging in the park, and there's an invitation in there, and absently I nod my head. Her beaming smile is worth it, and she picks her pace up, eager to get home and change. I stare after her, stride never changing. She is so happy, and watching her, I am too.

We arrive at her front door and she invites me in, saying it'll only be a minute and then we'll be on our way. She does ask if I want to borrow anything of hers to jog in as we remove our shoes in the entryway, but I decline. I do not think I could handle changing in her house, not with her doing the same in the next room over. I settle myself in a chair and fiddle with my skirt. Running will be impractical in it, but it's a small price to pay to see Kagura enjoying herself. It's not as if I won't be enjoying it, either, though not only for the exercise.

I relax into the surprisingly comfortable chair and daydream, as is my wont. That part of me hasn't been changed yet today; no, only the content has. I see fuzzy images of Kagura peeling off her school uniform, skirt pooling around her feet before she steps out of it. Her shirt is unbuttoned, then shrugged off. Only in her underwear, she walks over to her closet, rifling through clothes on hangers until grabbing a tank top and running shorts. She pulls them on haphazardly, the fabric wedging its way into her body's crevices, clinging to the athletic form.

The dream shifts; I remember that she'll have to change bras, too. The haze reforms into Kagura, topless and bent over a dresser drawer, looking for the required article of clothing. Tantalizing glimpses of her anatomy can be seen as she digs through the mess. She finds it at last and goes to straighten up, just beginning to turn around – there's a pressure behind me.

Kagura has her arms crossed, leaning on the back of my seat, the grin still plastered on her face. She wouldn't be grinning like that if she knew where my mind had been wandering off to. She's even wearing approximately what I'd fantasized she was in (and out of). Still, I offer a sheepish smile (something I am not accustomed to) and get up. I feel my hair flick against Kagura's face, but she forestalls the apology forming on my lips. She moves over to where she left her shoes and sits down to lace them up, and I follow suit. As she gets up, I realize our hips had almost been touching. I could shift, and "accidental" contact would be made…

I shake my head minutely, so that Kagura does not notice. What has gotten into me? I have the answer, but I do not like how this one aspect of my life is taking over all the rest. I'd like to think I have a good deal of restraint, but today has tested that unspoken belief of mine. While I prevented the brushing together of our bodies, I could not help my eyes as they followed Kagura as she stood. While not as revealing as the school skirt would have been, it was still enough to invoke an involuntary flush. I turned back to my own shoes, tying them with vigor unusual for the task, and Kagura did notice this.

"You must be as pumped as me to get out there as run," she says. I do not verbally confirm this, but stand up quickly, resolutely. I know what Kagura will see in these actions, and she does not disappoint. She dashes out the door, the silent starting gun having gone off. I race after her, kicking the door shut on the way out. Locking it is not the priority; catching up to the rapidly fading Kagura was.

I put on an extra burst of speed as I see Kagura stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. I tap her on the shoulder as I come up behind her, and that grin she gives me is unnerving. Perhaps I am misinterpreting it, but it's like she can read my mind. I must remind myself that she's only thinking of the competitive aspect of the race; I am the one chasing, on the prowl, as it were.

The light has changed and she's gone ahead again; it is reminiscent of P.E. class earlier. I weave through the small crowd crossing the street just in time to see Kagura take an unexpected turn. I do not know this route to the park, so I go faster, not wishing to get misled. She may have changed her destination without telling me, I tell myself, and my mind seizes on the idea. I envision Kagura sitting, laughter held back, as I stumble up to a quiet café with a table for two waiting.

Kagura is stopped at another crosswalk, and belatedly I realize I'm about to barrel into the intersection. She grabs my shoulder and twists me back, and I tumble to the ground. The blush is not only due to Kagura's contact; I'm sure I gave the onlookers an inadvertent show just then. Kagura kneels down to my level, worry etched across her face.

"Sorry 'bout that," she begins. "I didn't mean for you to end up down there, but I didn't want you to end up in the road, either."

"It's OK," I respond quietly, massaging my shoulder, which Kagura had had to latch onto tightly, and my left ankle, which didn't take the impromptu pirouetting kindly. I see Kagura about to ask about the potential injuries, and soothe her. "No, really. I'm sure they're only sore."

"Guess that means the race is over," Kagura sounds disappointed about more than that – I wonder if it's concern for me or about her victory being tainted by a fall. Slowly, I get up, leaning on Kagura far more than necessary for support. I don't have to feel guilty about using her as a crutch if I have an excuse, do I? I still do, though. Kagura senses my tensing up and ushers me across the street and onto a bench, probably thinking I'm wincing in pain.

We sit on the bench for a good five minutes, not saying anything. Kagura is occasionally looking at me, checking on if I'm alright, I suppose. I try not to look back all the time, but watching the pedestrians is not very interesting. Nothing is, really, when Kagura is around. Breaking tradition, I am the one who broaches the silence.

"Can we still go to the park?" I ask her, a note of timidity creeping into my voice that makes me inwardly cringe. I sound like a love-struck boy fumbling to ask a girl out, and pray she doesn't detect it. She looks at me askew for a moment, and I think the jig's up. Instead, she leans over, doting-like, and asks if I'm still up to it after what happened.

"It'll be quieter in the park," I reply. "The cars are irritating me." It sounds like the wild invention it is to my ears, but Kagura quickly acquiesces to my request. We get up and, mindful of the crosswalk this time, make our way at a subdued pace to the park. I let Kagura lead, and tell her I do not know this way she's taking. She turns her head around and grasps my hand then, pulling me along.

"Then let me be your guide," she intones. I let myself be pulled along, let Kagura indulge in her whims. I can only see the back of her head, but I know she is still smiling. Soon enough, we are in the shade of the trees and scent of the flowers that the park offers. Kagura lets go of my hand and we meander around the trails. It is early enough in the afternoon that the students are out of school, but the workers have not yet come home, so the park is fairly devoid of others.

Kagura notices my furtive side-to-side glances and leads me over to a wooden bench in a grove of trees. I see her arm reaching toward something…what? I must have had the question in my eyes, because Kagura pulls up short.

"Can I…well, is your leg still bothering you?" Now she is the one looking uneasy, and she has never been as good as I am with concealing emotions. I understand her intentions then, but play dumb by inquisitively tilting my head. She continues: "I could give it a rub. It works for the swimmers when we cramp up during club practice."

I re-cross my legs so that the one in question is now closer to Kagura. She takes this as a yes, and this time her hand finds my ankle. I suck in a breath; her hand is so hot, and the tingles it sends through me are anything but pure. I must give credit where it's due – she is pretty good at this. My ankle throbs less and less; the pulsations have moved to the center of my body. I tremble slightly as her fingers work the muscles around my foot.

I take my eyes off her fingers and look at her face. She is biting her lip in concentration, and small beads of sweat dot her hairline. Her tank top is clinging to damply; the shorts, the same. She glistens in the late afternoon sun, and the sight is breathtaking. The setting sun frames her in an angelic way. It does not take much to imagine a halo around her head, and a little cute set of wings sprouting from her back.

My thoughts are decidedly not angelic. With the sun behind her, I can see the silhouette of her right breast through the fabric of her tank top. The shape, the perfect roundness, the contour of the slightly stiff nipple cresting the mound of flesh - it is more than I ever could have dreamed of, and I cannot tear my eyes away. Kagura is still working on my ankle, oblivious to what is on show for me and me alone. My mind blanks.

Suddenly, the hand on my ankle stops moving, and pulls away hurriedly. I blink, momentarily confused. I see Kagura smile, and it is not the playful grin it was before. It holds so many things – some friendliness, sure, but undercutting it was a sense of sympathy, and distress. Her hand, once so recently massaging me, comes to rest on top of my two hands. I look down, eager to see our fingers entwined, but have to stop myself from recoiling.

My hand are fisted in the hen of her tank top, and the fabric is rolled up above her navel, nearly indecently so. I see slivers of flesh that the shadows had only played at, and I gulp desperately. There is no condemnation in Kagura's eyes, something for which I am grateful. The evidence is overwhelming, and it's on display right in the middle of the park. If passersby stop and gawk, I choose not to see it.

Kagura's hand gently pulls my unresisting ones away. She has not said anything, but her visage remains the same – I never thought I would see such a flurry of emotions on her as I have today. There are so many things I want to say to her. I want to enumerate all of the qualities I see in her, placate her worries, and perhaps even tell her I am falling in love with her, if you can call a fixation love. But first, I must explain this all to her, before it is too late, and more irrevocable damage is done.

"I…I…" is all I can manage. There is just no way to put all these thoughts into words adequate for this situation. My hands are dropped into my lap, and Kagura's hands, after rolling down the tank top, clasp furtively in hers. I look up at her again, and I'm sure she sees the longing there; for once, I am not trying to push it under. Her expression briefly flickers; now, there is a faint echo of what's on my face in hers. She shifts on the bench, only allowing me to see this change for the barest moment.

"I think it's time for me to go," and her voice is strained, choking down tears. She stands up and walks away.


End file.
